


In Cold Blood

by UpsetPapaya



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Connor Deserves Happiness, Connor x Reader - Freeform, DBH, Detroit, Detroit: Become Human - Freeform, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotions, Eventual Smut, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Feelings, Fluff, Hank - Freeform, Hank Anderson & Connor Parent-Child Relationship, Jealous Connor, Post Game, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Protective Connor, Reader x Connor, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Romance, Sad, Smut, Suicide mention, deviant, rated r, slowburn, trigger warning, updated daily, you are the main character - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-01 15:18:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15145961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UpsetPapaya/pseuds/UpsetPapaya
Summary: You don't hate androids. In fact, you've been rooting for them. There's just one in particular that gets under your skin in the best damn way possible. Working for the Detroit Police Department alongside Hank Anderson and his son, you finally get to get out there on the field and show them what you've got.Takes place two years after the game. After the ending where Connor becomes deviant and survives, Markus leads a peaceful protest and the president considers that they are a new intelligent species, and Kara, Alice, and Luther escape to Canada. Androids are now considered citizens, not required to wear an LED or jacket labelling them, and have all the rights of humans. [Updated Daily]





	1. Paperwork

Internship. Finally! You’ve waited for this forever, you know. All the years of medical school to end up in possibly the best internship. Lucky you, being part of the first generation to learn first aid for androids, too. That’s what placed you here, the Detroit Police Department working as a medic. Not only were your grades outstanding, they found impressive on your resume about using medical knowledge to deduce crimes - but if you were being honest, which you’d never tell them, you scribbled that down in a fit of anxiety only moments before stepping into the office.

All streams of good eventually dry out.

You’d asked for the best. The very best, most decorated officer… Landed you waiting until noon each day for your supervisor to even show up. Hank Anderson. He was a rougher looking man; donned in baggy clothes, an overdue haircut, and a brass personality to tie everything in a neat little bow. His partner, Connor, on the other hand, was much more well mannered. He hovered around the place with such an infectious aura that you couldn’t help feel happy speaking to the man. He dressed sleek; a completely black and silver blazer matched with a striped tie. His clothes were a perfect fit, using a white button up as a base for the colourless, modern attire. Often spotted with a coin between his fingers, he was something to remember. He was sort of crass, though. All the more to enjoy, honestly.

“Alright,” you muttered under your breath, your fingers skating across a tablet at you filled out paperwork, sorting the new files and moving the old ones away. You placed one of the last files away into its folder, letting the tablet down onto your desk. You yawned, pushing yourself away from the desk, your chair following. Leaning back, you reached your arms over your head as your stretched. 

A familiar sight of a man caught your gaze while you were outstretched, so you quickly sat up and turned your rolling chair towards him. Connor. He sat across from Hank Anderson, the person you’d be working with for a little while. Unfortunately, you had to sit across from a gruff man named Gavin Reed due to lack of desks. If words held poison, his name would be deadly. He was rude, egotistical, and just about the biggest prick you’d ever met. In fact, Gavin at across from you now, sloppily typing something out with an open bottle of something, presumed alcohol. 

Getting to your feet, you moved off into the direction of the cafe, full intent on getting another cup and another night of lost sleep. Your hands wrapped around the coffee pot, lifting it from its dock and pouring it into a flimsy, small cup. As you placed the pot back into its original spot, disruption turned your attention away.

“Hey, you plastic prick,” a voice rang out. “Do my paperwork. Have it done before tomorrow morning,” he spoke again. Turning towards the noise, you could see Gavin hanging over Connor’s desk, his hand outstretched with his tablet of documents. You, walking towards the direction of your desk, placed your coffee down as you watched the scene unfold. 

“Detective Reed,” Connor spoke, moving to his feet. “I am not obligated by any means to complete your paperwork,” he finished, his eyes focused on Gavin. The way he spoke showed no malice, but the tension arose and was very clearly there. Gavin took a step towards Connor, his hands wrapping around the outer layer of his blazer as he pulled the man closer to him. This is when you intervened. 

“Hey! Stop!” You called out, advancing towards the situation. Both of the men’s eyes moved to yours as you approached. “Detective Reed, what do you think you’re doing?” You called out again, making him thrust Connor away from him. You watched as the man fell back, his hand flying behind him to catch himself, only to land wrong and have blue blood leaking from it.

“You really want to get involved with this, newbie?” Gavin turned to you, his teeth pressed so hard together you could see the muscles tensing in his lower face. You frowned slightly as he started moving towards you, his hands outstretched to do the same to you as he did Gavin. In the moment, all you could think of was protecting yourself. You pulled your arm back and let go, letting it hit straight into Gavin. He staggered back a little before falling onto the floor. 

You eyes moved from Connor to Gavin, and after a quick nod from Connor, you moved over to Gavin. You placed two fingers on this adam’s apple and moved down until you felt the choroid artery. You counted the pulse for a moment, deeming it normal as you moved your fingers away from his neck. You examined him for a moment, deeming that your punch didn’t knock him out, rather he passed out from alcohol consumption at a very, very odd time. 

“You alright?” You spoke, turning to Connor. He looked up, nodding slightly. You moved to your feet quickly, seeing the injury on his hand. You outstretched a hand to him, letting his undamaged hand wrap around yours as you helped him up, moving towards your desk.

You pushed him back until he fell into your chair, elevating his arm to prevent any more blue blood loss. Spinning on your heels, your hands fell across the handle of your filing cabinet. Pulling it tightly, you produced a first-aid kit. Setting it across your desk, you popped it open and pulled out a wipe and a patch of plastic. You quickly wiped the blue blood away from Connor’s hand, then moved to the patch. Laying it across the jagged metal of Connor’s hand, you reached back into the kit to produce what you needed to stitch the patch in. A thin metal wire as flexible as a string along with toothed forceps and a needle. Threading the needle into Connor’s hand and out, pulling the string until it was tight and short. You twisted the wire twice around the forceps before pulling the tail of the suture until it knotted itself. Then, you repeated 10 more times. While you did this, you used this moment to speak to Connor.

“I didn’t know you were an android,” you stated simply. Not cruel or with malice - just stating it. You focused your gaze on your handiwork, waiting for a response from the man. He sighed, then words emerged.

“Yeah, I am,” he said simply. You nodded simply in return, finding it interesting that he consciously tried to hide this secret, but pegged it up to him not wanting to be defined for it, or called names by bigots such as Gavin. Tying off the last suture, skin covered the patch and metal until it seemed good as new.

“There you go, Con-man,” you said, flashing a smile at Connor. He smiled back, but the emotion there was unreadable. "You must've fell pretty hard if you damaged your hand. Why don’t you head home? Lieutenant Anderson’s probably waiting for you.”

“He can wait,” he said, humour intertwining into his words again. Connor rose from his chair, glancing towards the mess he made. “Thinking of it, he’s probably asleep. Or drinking,” He said, turning to you. “How about we handle Gavin?” He suggested.

You nodded, moving towards Gavin. “I’ll do the accident report too,” you said, Connor right behind you. Glancing back towards Connor, his face  had returned to normal. Readable and content.

 


	2. Analyzing

_Connor's Pov_

Connor’s eyes fell upon you as you entered the station. Your hair was ruffled and your clothes were still the same from the night before. Analyzing it quickly, Connor realized you had gotten little to no sleep. After the events of last night, around 03:00 you left the station. The same day, 07:00, you were here, walking into the station. Docking an hour or so for travel there and back, plus another 30 minutes for other activities such as chores or food, that left at the most two and half hours of sleep.

The bags under your eyes held prominent and sunken, demonstrating just how little sleep you had received from the night before. A ting of sympathy crossed Connor’s path, disrupting him slightly. Though he had gained emotion over two years ago, to this day he still struggled with it. Humans had over 18 years to get it right. He had 9 times less that time.

Connor watched as you drug yourself into Fowler’s office, Detective Reed already sat in a chair across from the man. Though the door was shut, you could hear Fowler’s voice booming. Muffled dialogue emerged.

“Fucking drinking on the job. What the fuck, Gavin? We’re here to solve violence, not make it fucking worse!” He yelled, leaned over his desk slightly, Connor watched from his desk as Gavin folded his arms over his chest with an eye roll. Fowler, pissed at this notion, swung his view from Gavin to you.

“And you, newbie. Fucking hitting one of my best detectives? What the fuck? You’ve been here a month. You have no privileges. No standing!” He hollered. Connor couldn’t watch this anymore. He knew it wasn’t your fault - and that’s exactly the reason rage was boiling up in his chest. Finding it a distraction, Connor got to his feet and made his way over to the coffee machine. He analyzed that he could reduce your stress by nearly 20% if he was there with a small gesture. On his way there, more muffled dialogue escaped from the office.

“I was defending myself! If you think that I should’ve taken a beating for not sleeping with a drunk co-worker, you have another thing coming!” Connor registered the voice as yours. He froze for a moment as he poured the coffee into a simple cup. “Don’t blame me, Captain Fowler. I did nothing wrong.”

Your voice had calmed down now. Turning his face towards the office, Connor analyzed the frayed look on your boss’ face. Lowering their voices, Connor read the lips of Fowler. _‘I’m sorry… I didn’t-’_ You held up your hand to halt the words from his mouth. Connor could only see the back of your head, but if he knew you at all, you were probably grimacing. He couldn’t help but feel a new emotion. Warmth spread through his body like lightning. It was something he had not felt before. Analyzing it quickly, his system identified it as _pride_. He quickly searched the term and scrolled through a dozen articles in a millisecond.

Connor was proud that you had stood up for what was right.

Connor shook from his thoughts as he started making his way towards the office, coffee in hand. Just as Connor approached, both Gavin and you emerged from the glass prison. Gavin’s face held a scowl, malice present. He walked near Connor, bumping into his shoulder purposefully, whispering ‘ _plastic prick_ .’ As he did so, Connor’s receptors displayed this alcohol content in his breath. His BAC was decreasing quickly. With this information, he processed that Gavin was _hungover._

“Hey Connor,” you said, your voice deflated, but still optimistic. Connor looked up from his thoughts, thrusting the coffee out from his grasp into yours. You gave a slight smile, hoping to cheer you up. He read your face, twinge of thankfulness, a small hint of sadness, but mostly appreciation. Your sleep deprived and shaky hands wrapped around the lukewarm coffee, giving a small nod. Connor watched as your stress level dropped from an 88% to a 64%.

**_Connor: ^  [Friends]_ **

“Thanks, Connor,” you said, your voice dropping softly. Connor watched as you looked down into the coffee, your brows furrowing and your nose scrunching up. For a moment, Connor believed he had messed up the coffee, but after a quick flick over the recipe in his mind proved otherwise. He decided it was your stress level causing the emotion. As he analyzed further, he was caught off guard as you tipped the glass over into your mouth and downed it all in one go. Though as Connor noticed your stress dropping from a 64% to a 49%, he cringed. His hand landed on your shoulder, feeling your pulse jumping up from an overworked 99 to a 120, reaching a low level of aerobic activity. Of course, with no aerobic activity.

“Doctor, I must inform you that the coffee’s caffeine level is causing your heart rate to jump up-”

“Don’t bother. I’m a doctor, I understand the costs,” you said, glancing down at Connor’s hand on your arm. Connor’s brows furrowed in thought at your words, wondering why you’d do something like that to yourself. He pulled his arm back, deep in thought. Connor frustrated himself trying to understand humans.

“Whoa. You look like death. Doctor fuckin’ Death. How fitting,” a man said, drawing Connor and your attention to away. Quickly analyzing his words, Connor decided he was bantering and not actually insulting you. Connor watched as your face lightened up at the appearance of Hank. He watched your stress decrease drastically, and he felt a little jealous that he wasn’t the one to do it. Overall, he was still happy that you were less stressed.

“Look who’s talking, old man. You’re about on the brink of death,” you countered playfully. Hank smiled at you softly. Connor analyzed that Hank was changing ever since he had shown up two years ago. Having a son back into his life only lead to positive changes. Still cursed like a sailor and took none of Gavin and Fowler’s shit, but was open to making more friends. Connor appreciated how quickly his father and you had bonded. He loved seeing Hank happy.

“At least I don’t look it, rookie,” he said, directing his attention to Connor. He smiled at him for a moment, then spoke again. “Fowler’s assigned us to the homicides relating to hate crimes against androids. I’d prefer we deal with the damn fuckin’ paperwork now before he starts ridin’ my ass.”

Nodding, both Connor and you moved towards the desks. Connor’s and Hank’s connected, but since you were new, you had to take the one connected to Gavin’s. Connor watched you move towards your desk, noticing how your stress moved from a 14% to a 34%. Connor wished he could do something, but after analyzing all the options, he realized that each one led to some sort of argument with Gavin. Sitting down in his chair, Connor turn his face to the monitor, logging into his DPD account and reviewing the information given.

Slightly glancing to his right to you, he could see you sat at the monitor doing the same, except Gavin and you were engrossed in a conversation. Your stress kept jumping around, making Connor realize that Gavin was undoubtedly giving you a telling off for telling on him.

After a while of pure silence, you jumped up from your desk rushing towards Connor and Hank.

“Who’s the boss?” You said, Connor sensing the humour and happiness jumping into your voice. Before either Connor or Hank could answer, your hand jumped onto Connor’s shoulder and you spoke again. Connor couldn’t identify what was so different about the touch, but he liked it. “I just got a lead!”


	3. Lead

“Lay it out, Death,” Hank said flatly, gesturing to you. A smirk graced your lips proudly. You quickly spun on your heels, leaning over to Connor’s desk. A smile lingered on your lips as you moved over to Connor. You looked at him softly for a moment.

“Can I borrow this?” You said, gaze flicking to the computer in front of him. He seemed dazed for a moment, but after it was over he gave a quick nod. He blinked a few times before he looked down at the computer and logged out of his DPD account with a simple click.

“It’s all yours,” he said, moving away from the screen. You flashed him another smile and leaned over him, typing in your username and password quickly. You leaned over Connor, your elbows resting on Connor’s shoulders. Pulling up your document, you transferred the information to Hank’s account quickly. Standing up and clearing your throat, you started presenting your lead.

“See, three days ago, dispatch received two complaints of gunshots in the same area. They sent a squad car out there and deemed it as “a non-violent shooting” where it’s explained in the report that they pegged it up to someone shooting in their backyard, target practice or something,” you paused, seeing Hank watching and following along on his screen, but Connor’s eyes watched you like a hawk. Again, there was some emotion you couldn’t read. You took another breath and continued. “I cross-matched that with another report in the same area, where two missing persons cases were opened. One was human and the other was android,” you pulled up something on the computer. “See here? This is the missing persons' report. The man, Paul Munoz, has _eight_ previous records in crime, such as 2 counts of domestic abuse, one Red Ice distribution, and 5 counts of Cause Serious Bodily Injury. Four of those five were androids.”

Hank took a breath, his hand holding his head. “What does that have to do with the case? There’s no lead there if you can’t prove their connected-”

“They worked together,” you finished, cutting off Hank. He lifted his head from his hand and looked up at you. You beamed a slight smile, Connor’s eyes drawing your attention for a second. His silky browns watched the way you spoke and moved, and you knew it.

“How does a damn medic put that together?” Hank muttered under his breath, placing his head in his hands. You chuckled at his light-hearted comment. Connor’s eyes darted to Hank as if he was deciding something. You turned to Connor, looking at him curiously.

“I assume you were looking at the medical records for Paul Munoz?” Connor offered, trying to understand. You clicked your tongue as you gave him a finger gun, winking. His brows furrowed slightly at the gesture.

“Right on. See, I was trying to see if there was any injury-”

“You got the lead, don’t go fuckin’ braggin’ now,” Hank said, making you stop amidst your words. “Your idea isn’t totally stupid, but the only way both of those people connect is through location. You’re on a string here.” You deflated at the fact you couldn’t explain how you got there but perked back up at the idea of finally going on a mission. Leaning back over Connor, you logged out of your account in a split second. The contact seemed to confuse Connor for a moment, but you brushed it off.

“We’re leaving in 5 minutes,” Hank spoke over his shoulder, pulling his jacket over himself. He moved off into the direction of Fowler’s office, causing you to scowl for a moment. You flattened your pants down for a second before moving away from Connor’s desk, in the direction of the coffee machine. Hell, you’d had a cup two hours ago, but damn did you need more. Less than 3 hours of sleep would be the downfall of you. As you stepped into the cafeteria, a voice arose.

“You don’t plan on another coffee, do you?” A voice said. Spinning on your heels, you saw Connor with a concerned face. You smiled, hoping to lighten his mood. You cleared your throat for a moment.

“I do,” you said, reaching for the coffee pot. Connor’s face flashed with emotions, concern, anger, and determination. Ever since you started working here you knew Connor struggled with emotion. Made more sense now you knew he was an android. His face evened out and his gaze met yours again.

“You do understand that one cup of coffee consists of 95 milligrams of caffeine, and with someone of your BMI you should only consum-”

“Connor, I know. I’m okay,” you said, hoping to calm him down for a moment. Connor, from what you knew, hasn’t gained the ability to talk out what he’s feeling. Instead, he spits out facts in hope that you decide for yourself to do something. You sipped on the coffee slowly, hoping that comforted Connor in some way.

“See, Connor, humans tire. You know this. You’re lucky you don’t have to sleep,” you went on, trying to explain to him. “Sometimes doing things can damage your body end up helping you later,” you finished.

“Your stress level decreases considerably when drinking coffee, Doctor,” Connor spoke, more to himself than to you. You processed this information for a second before speaking.

“You can see my stress level?” You asked calmly. Connor looked embarrassed for a second, his gaze hitting the floor. You took a larger swig of your coffee before placing on the cafe table near both of you. You opened your mouth to speak to Connor.

“Connor, I’m not mad,” you added simply. He looked back up, squinting his eyes slightly as if his program was trying to decide if you were lying or not. After a second, he must’ve decided you weren’t lying. “I just wanted to know.”

“Come on, asshats. Let’s roll,” Hank hollered from across the room, interrupting your conversation. You chuckled for a moment, not forgetting for a second that Connor’s eyes were glued onto you. You grabbed Connor’s arm, dragging him off towards Hank. You tried to decide if he liked interaction. Some days, he was fine with it, other days, not. It seemed today was one of those days he appreciated it because when you looked, he held a small smile on his face.

What a rare sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Archive of Our Own was down for a while this morning. Did anyone else think their device was broken? Anyways, if you didn’t know, there’s @AO3_Status on twitter and the update about that kind of stuff all the time. Just a heads up!


	4. Awkward

Connor’s POV

The car ride to the scene had been what Connor would analyze as ‘hositle’. The way the air hung around the three was violent, disguising itself under the heavy metal soundtrack that filled the car to the brim. You sat there quietly, taping away on the DPD tablet with furrowed brows. You hardly noticed the tension at all, interfaced into a file as you quietly took notes.

Connor couldn’t quite understand the tension. He didn't want to say anything in fear of disrupting you or Hank. Everyone’s stress levels were minimal, in the low 10’s. He doubted if it was even there at all, but a system checks underlined the fact that it was there, acknowledged or not. Connor frustrated himself again in an attempt to grasp emotion and everything in between.

“You alright there, son?” Hank’s voice spoke out, breaking Connor from his mind and drawing his gaze up towards his father, who sat in the driver’s seat, hands on the wheel. Connor sat in the middle of the backseat, as always. You sat across from Hank, strapped into the front seat deep in thought. Hank’s hand moved down the dashboard, lowering the volume. You seemed unfazed by the commotion, choice or not.

“Yes, Hank. I am having trouble identifying an emotion,” Connor’s voice came, words spoken perfectly, but troubled. Hank glanced through the rearview mirror and caught Connor’s eyes. His brows were furrowed softly.

“Go on, Connor,” Hank spoke, placing his eyes back on the road. His stress level jumped up to 27% quickly, proving to Connor’s programming that Hank indeed did want to know. Connor racked his brain with words to describe what he was feeling.

“My system is acting strangely. Diagnostics prove nothing wrong, but I feel wrong. I feel like the things around me are wrong. The atmosphere around us seems less smooth-”

“Son, that’s awkwardness. You feel awkward,” Hank interrupted, answering Connor. Watching Hank’s stress decrease, he quickly ran the new term through his databases. Meeting the term to the situation, it read; _causing or feeling embarrassment or inconvenience._ Connor processed this information, scanning articles and media in milliseconds before he could wrap his hands around it. The next question came from Connor’s mouth without processing.

“Why do I feel awkward?” Connor asked, cocking his head to the side slightly and meeting the gaze of Hank in the rearview mirror again. Hank looked back at the road, thinking for a moment. He cleared his throat but had no intention of speaking.

“Maybe because I’m here?” Your voice perked up, eyes leaving your tablet and looking over your shoulder to Connor. Connor watched your stress spike up for a moment before dropping back down. You spoke softly, as if not to shatter the moment. “See, if it was just you and Hank, nothing would have been wrong.” You cleared your throat, looking straight towards the road. “I’m new. I get it. Co-workers are always awkward at first, even if we are friends.”

**_Connor: ^ [Friendly]_ **

“Oh,” Connor spoke simply, dropping his gaze to analyze your words. The car’s tension seemed to vanish from then on out, which made Connor happy. Connor stored this information away, drawing the message from this situation of _talking out your feelings._

“We’re here,” Hank spoke, breaking the silence. He twisted the key and pulled the silver key from the car. It was so rare to see cars with keys nowadays, but Hank was a little old-fashioned. Stuffing the key into his pocket, he swung his door open and stepped out. Both you and Connor followed his lead, shutting the doors behind yourselves.

Connor observed the scene. Scanning the property and address, his system prompted that this was the home of missing person Paul Munoz. The house, still legally under his name, had not been taken possession of by his family. Connor deduced for a moment that the home was _not_ previously searched, hence the lack of information in the file. The house was rundown, the planks of the building waterlogged and covered in mold. It was a two-story house with a basement.

“Got the damn warrant, Death?” Hank grumbled, looking at the gloomy house. Fumbling with your tablet, you pulled up the warrant quickly to show Hank. Drops of water began to splash over the three of you, so you quickly moved underneath the porch of the house, the tablet still in hand. Hank followed close behind you, but Connor was still processing.

Connor was analyzing the property still, checking percentages and stats until he was jerked out from out of the rain. Your hand wrapped around the side of his blazer as you pulled him along, muttering under your breath.

“The hell you think you’re doing? Get out of the rain, Connor,” you muttered, dragging him up to Hank underneath the porch, safe from the rain. Connor looked down at you, head cocked slightly to the side with a brow raised.

“Why did you pull me out of the rain?” He asked, speaking before thinking. The involuntary act shocked himself, obviously not used to speaking without processing it first. Hank grumbled slightly before turning to the front door, jiggling the handle.

“Probably so we can start our fuckin’ investigation?” Hank added snarkily, backing away from the door. Connor analyzed the comment quickly, sensing the hostility in his words. Connor quickly decided that he was ready to get a move on. He turned back to the two of you, sighing.

“It’s locked, so we’ll have to find another-” You started, noticing Hank’s failure to open the door. Hank raised his hand to cut you off, and your brows furrowed slightly, waiting for him to explain. He thought for a moment. He looked over to his son, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. He turned to you.

“That’s not how we roll around here, Death,” Hank spoke, humour in his words. Your interest peaked as Hank leaned over and whispered into Connor’s ear, who promptly nodded. He motioned for you and Hank to step back, which Hank did. You stood there, not moving, watching him curiously. In turn, he placed a hand on the front of your shoulder, lightly applying pressure in a physical gesture to step back. The contact was strangely electrifying to Connor, watching your breath hitch for a second as you stepped back.

Angling his arm, Connor took a few steps backs before throwing himself at the dry rotted door, tearing through the lock as the door popped open.

“What the hell? Connor- Hank!” You accused, turning your attention to Hank, who held a small smile. “This isn’t funny,” you added seriously. Hank’s smile vanished and was replaced with a look of agitation. “If he keeps doing that, he’ll damage his shoulder bioco-”

“It’s okay, Doctor, I am fine,” Connor said, stepping into the circle of conversation, brushing the wood debris from his blazer simply. Hank gestured to Connor, his shoulders rising.

“See? He’s fine. Let’s get a fuckin’ move on,” Hank grumbled. The three of you turned towards the smashed door, ready to finally begin your mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! In this part of the story, Connor doesn't understand emotion. He acts so robotically because that's what he was programmed to do, but has since broken from that and is trying to act more human now. He doesn't know how to talk out emotions or how to convince someone to do something without logic or processing things. His personality is jumping around because he doesn't know how to control himself or how to react to things. What do you guys think so far?


	5. Investigation

Your POV

You stepped into the house behind Connor in Hank. Contradicting the outside look, the inside of the house was well decorated and seemed well cared for. Regrouping, you stood next to Connor as Hank directed what to do next.

“Look, Death, you take the second floor. Connor, search this floor. I’ll go down to the basement for a check. If you find anything, just holler,” Hank spoke, clearing his throat. He patted Connor on the back before turning around and walking towards the descending stairs to the basement. You felt a twinge of excitement flash through you. Your first case, your first investigation, your first lead…

You allowed your excitement to guide you up the stairs to the second floor. Here, the furniture seemed a little more tattered and unruly. You took a few steps forward from the stairs, observing your surroundings. The carpet was ripped, stained, and tattered. You frowned, taking a few steps towards what appeared to be a bedroom. The large house creaked under your feet as you walked, standing in a door frame of the room. Flipping on the light, you looked around to see a tattered bed. On top of it, Red Ice was scattered around it along with physical, untraceable evidence - paper. The paper contained prices, but nothing beyond that. You were about to holler out for the other two when you were beaten to it. 

“Connor, Death, get your asses here,  _ now! _ ” Hank hollered. You quickly sensed the anxiety in his voice. Removing yourself from the room, you flew through the stairs until you met up with Connor. Following him through the second floor to the descending basement stairs, you cleared your throat.

“Hank?” You spoke out. Then, you heard breathing. Heavy breathing. Hurrying down the stairs and turning the corner to meet Hank’s flashlight, the sight shook you to your core. Hank stood there, his face pale and empty. You looked around, seeing biocomponents and bodies of androids laid scattered around, a thin layer of blue covering it all. This had happened recently. Metal glinted with the flash of Hank’s light. There were piles of them - torn, ripped, shattered, attacked… _ Dead _ . 

That’s when you spun on your heels and vomited.  _ Everywhere _ . You fell to your knees, sobs attempting to escape your throat. Connor fell alongside you, shaking hands reaching out to pull back your hair as he suppressed the minimal sounds that escaped his throat. You turned to Connor, who’s lip quivered and eyes leaked artificial tears. His petrified eyes glued to yours, locking you into his gaze. 

“Oh my god,” you whispered, the corners of your lips turning down and your head falling, hanging limply. You mentally slapped yourself. You were a doctor! Get it together!

Pushing yourself up, you turned to a scarred Hank, his face still pale. You swallowed hard, shaking your head hard until you snapped out of your trance. You took a few steady breaths before speaking.

“Connor, call for backup,” you dryly spoke. You just barely saw a small nod from him, who placed his fingers on his temple’s shakily. “Hank,” you spoke, taking a step towards him. The glint of metal caught your eye again. This time, you noticed the face. Collapsing back onto your knees, you crawled towards it in the poorly lit basement. You placed it’s head into your hands, looking at the ratted face of the once alive android. The face of your missing android citizen Olly Higgs lie dead before you. Lifeless eyes bore into your skull.

“It’s Higgs,” you muttered more to yourself than anything. Turning to Connor, he gave you a small nod. He seemed like he had finally pulled himself together for a bit, as did Hank.

You reached down and your hand bumped into a small object. It felt slick and cold. Wrapping your hand around it, you brought it up to your face. In your hands, you held an Android heart, a bicomponent covered in blue. Clutching it to your chest, you felt a harrowing sadness engulf you. The kind of emptiness that you feel when you hear of a loss of a child, or a mass shooting, or worse.

You felt a hand wrapping around your shoulder, grasping onto your shoulder. Jerking you up, you turned to see the face of Hank, a pale, but an aware face. He swallowed hard, clearing his throat. Even him, a decorated officer, had never seen something like this before. Bodies scattered around, disassembled and  _ dead _ .

“Come on, kid. Let’s go,” Hank said, composure building back up as he steered you and Connor up the stairs. In your hands, you still clutched the heart carefully, covering you in blue blood. As you emerged into the light of the second floor, cops and first responders passed you up, rushing towards the scene. Hank continued to guide you out the doors of the front of the house until you three stood next to his car in the pouring rain. 

“I’m going to kill that motherfucker,” the words slipped past your lips before you even thought about it. Connor and Hank met your gaze. 

**_Connor:_ ** **_⌄ [Tense], Hank: ^ [Warm]_ **

Connor didn’t like that, but Hank didn’t seem to mind. Feeling self-conscious, you looked down, your clothes were stained blue, but was washing out as the rain poured. Your hands were clenched around the bicomponent furiously, shock rattling through your body.

A broken sob escaped from Connor’s throat. Hank and you brought your gaze to him, whose face held pure shock. Of all the missions, of all he’s seen, this is the first time he’s witnessed death with emotions. He didn’t know what to do. Hank’s done this for years and had thought he had seen it all until today. You received this as your first mission. 

Hank wrapped his arm around Connor awkwardly before you slid your arms around Connor’s waist and pressed yourself against his chest. Connor’s arms wrapped around you in return, accepting the gesture. You reached out and tugged the jacket of Hank, forcing him into the awkward embrace. You listened to the beating of his biocomponent in his chest before releasing your arms along with Hank to glance back at the broken one in your hands. Your voice broke out.

“What’s next?”

 


	6. Roadtrip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twice as long chapter!

 

“Take the day off, kid,” Hank’s voice echoed through your phone, causing you to sigh in frustration. You cleared your throat, taking a breath before you spoke.

“Lieutenant, I’m fine. It was my first case! We have to track down that guy anywa-” You spoke, annoyance intertwining into your words. You were cut off from the person on the other side of the phone.

“Exactly. That was your first case. You also vomited everywhere and declared that you were going to _ kill  _ a man,” Hank spoke rather hastily, emphasizing his words. You gave a dejected sigh. 

“Look. Take the day off. Take it easy. You can come back tomorrow when everything’s settled, okay?” Hank spoke again, waiting for your response. You squeezed the phone in your hand frustratedly. 

“Fine. Keep me posted on the case, okay?” You muttered back. Hank gave out some kind of noise that could’ve been taken as an acceptance of your deal, but before you could inquire the phone rang out with solemn notes that represented a disconnected call. Pulling the phone down from your ear, you tossed it onto your coffee table carelessly as you collapsed down onto the couch. Dejectedly, you turned your gaze to the old-fashioned electronic clock with green numbers labelling it. 6:34 AM. 

Though all you wanted to do was to get up and get to the station, you understood as a doctor the importance of mental health. The shock you experienced was not meant for first-time crime scene goers, but that’s just how it played out. 

Sighing, you snatched up your TV remote into your hands as you flipped through channels, hoping to find something to satisfy your boredom or something to sooth your shock.  

 

“Detective,” Connor spoke, approaching Hank quickly. Glancing at his internal clock, he registered the time to be 7:02 AM. Hank was unusually on time, something that sprung confusion in not only his son but every co-worker around. Even Gavin seemed slightly surprised. 

“Look, Connor, I need to work on this damn case. I told good ol’ Death to take the day off, so if you’re not feeling up to par-” Hank started, his silver hair falling into his face as he spoke. Connor interrupted him quickly.   
“I’m fine,” Connor quickly spoke. He leaned up against his desk, his mind wandering to you. He thought about at the scene where he felt frozen with fear but watched you get to your feet and bark out commands that he honestly needed. He thought about how you threw up and how he instinctively wrapped his hands around your hair in an attempt to keep it clean. Why’d he do that? Or more importantly, that he was so wrapped up in shock that he didn’t scan once. Not for stress levels. Not for emotions. He just… lived.

Shaking his head, Connor spoke again. “I also think I have a lead.” 

“Is that what you were doing all night at the station?” Hank muttered. Connor looked up to meet the face of his smiling father. Connor returned the smile hesitantly as Hank spoke. “I couldn’t find you in your room last night, so I just assumed you were down here.”

“I see,” Connor spoke out. “Last night I was reviewing the evidence from the scene. I scanned the loose parts to see if any of them matched up with any living androids, but they were all deceased,” Connor spoke, his gaze falling to the ground for a second. “Then, I scanned the biocomponent that our doctor brought in,” Connor spoke, referring to you as he continued recalling his scans in the history file. “The blood on it belonged to Olly Higgs. The actual biocomponent belongs to someone of the name of Luther. He’s now assumed under the last name of Luther Jerry, where he lives alongside two other people. A girl named Alice and a woman named Kara,” Connor spoke, a soft smile over his lips. “He’s alive and lives about an hour from here across the Canadian border.”  
“Holy hell, Connor,” Hank said, a proud smirk running across Hank’s face. His hands balled up into a fist, a gesture Connor would have believed to be negative, but after a quick scan, was not. He was excited. “Get me an address for this Luther guy and I’ll go fill out the report. You’ve got a passport, right?” Hank inquired, walking towards Fowler’s office. Connor, checking his files, looked up and gave a quick nod. 

“Of course, Lieutenant.”

  
  


“Connor, I need to talk to you about something,” Hank spoke, his hand moving towards the volume knob to turn the heavy metal down. The pair were thirty minutes into the drive, quickly approaching the Canadian border. Connor looked up from the passenger’s seat, turning his head to meet Hank’s. Hank seemed slightly uncomfortable.

“During our time at the crime scene,” Hank started out, his eyes still locked on the road, but aware of Connor’s eyes on him. “You need to be more fuckin’ careful,” Hank spat out, shaking his head softly. Connor’s brows furrowed.

“What do you mean, Lieutenant?” Connor spoke out, inquiry wrapping around his words. Hank sighed, knowing full well he’d have to say it. There’s no reading between the lines with Connor.

“You saw those androids. I can’t have you ending up like that, especially with all those stupid goddamn idiots out there that are fuckin’ murdering androids just becaus-”

“Dad, I’m alright,” Connor spoke softly, calming Hank down. “I understand what you mean, but I’m perfectly equipped to handle myself if I need to,” Connor spoke again, soft and kind. After what seemed to be forever, Hank released a breath that neither of them knew he was holding. Hank opened his mouth to speak kind words to his son. 

“I trust you, kid,” he spoke. A silence was warm as they drove. The atmosphere was comfortable for a while, untouched as Hank drove. Then, he turned to look at Connor for a moment. 

“Connor, why’d you react that way to Death?” Hank spoke out again, not malicious, just confused. “She’d exclaimed something about killing that fuckin’ guy who did those terrible things. I saw the disgust wash over your face.”

“She is not typically an aggressive person. That is what I have gathered on her. She’s hit Gavin and stood up to Fowler once, but throws up at the scene of a crime. Her stress levels spike when she speaks to Gavin, and she typically avoids situations that may cause anyone harm,” Connor spoke, looking down at his hand. He removed the skin over his knuckles to observe the metal patch laid over it. His other hand ghosted over it, feeling the metal sutures as he continued to speak. “She’s driven by adrenaline. All her aggressive choices were made in adrenaline. At that moment, Lieutenant, there was hardly any flowing throughout her,” Connor finished. Hank and Connor sat quietly for a moment as Hank processed what he said. Then, he broke the silence again.

“So you disagree with her words, or are you scared she meant what she said?” Hank asked, leaving the question hanging in the air for Connor to address. He tried processing the question, but each and every time a different answer emerged in his binary. Connor responded.

“I.. I am not sure.” 

  
  


The trip over the Canadian border was no trouble at all. Connor and Hank were now approaching Luther Jerry’s home, turning into their neighbourhood. After a few moments, Hank turned into the driveway of a small home. It was fairly well kept and seemed almost cosy if anything. Opening the car doors, Connor and Hank stepped out, shutting the door behind them. Hank quickly locked the car, shoving the keys into his pocket. Standing alongside Connor, they made their way towards the door of the home. Hank stepped ahead, knocking on the door briefly before stepping back. After a few moments of shuffling, a lock unhinged and the door opened. A small girl with brown hair stood smiling at the people. 

“Hi,” the girl spoke happily. She looked up at the two. Then, behind her, a woman with short blonde hair appeared. She placed her hand on the girl’s shoulder.

“Hello, I’m Hank and this is Connor. We’re from the Detroit Police Department-” Hank was cut off quickly by the woman. She opened the door, ushering them in before shutting it behind them. Then, she unsheathed a knife from her belt. 

“Look, I don’t know what you want from us, but can’t you just leave us in peace? We’re not going back to-” she started. Hank and Connor stepped back, eyes open wide with fear. Hank’s hand began to move down towards his gun until the small girl tugged against the woman’s coat, pleading eyes boring into her own. 

“Mom, please,” she said, now tugging at the elbow that contained the knife. The woman looked between the child and the newcomers before she lowered her arm and placed the knife back into her belt. Hank moved his hand away from the gun.

“Ma’am, we’re not here to hurt you,” Connor spoke out. The woman distrustfully nodded, stepping back with her daughter pressed against her.

“Kara, Alice, who is it?” A deeper voice came from another room. After a moment, the source of the voice appeared. A tall, dark man with an intimidating look stepped into the room. His brows furrowed, looking at the newcomers curiously. “Who are you?” Luther said, taking Alice’s hand.

“They’re from the Detroit Police Department,” Alice spoke out. Luther’s face dropped for a moment. Pulling Alice behind him, he kept his eyes glued on Connor and Hank. He looked between them before speaking.

“Please, we can’t go back,” he spoke, still holding Alice’s hand. Connor shook his head, opening his mouth to speak.

“I understand you’re androids,” Connor spoke, analyzing their stress levels as not to trigger any unwanted events. Connor picked up his hand, the skin disappearing from it. “I’m an android too,” he said carefully. Connor watched as their stress decreased immensely. “We’re not here to bring you back to America or to tell anyone you’re androids. We’re here to question you guys on a man named  Paul Munoz ,” Connor finished.

The taller man relaxed. He allowed the small girl to come out from behind him. “He was the brother of Zlatko,” the man said, more to the woman than the investigators. Kara nodded slowly, backing up some. She spoke up.

“Why don’t you guys sit down?” Kara offered, gesturing to the kitchen table. Hank gave a small nod. The party of people moved to the dining table, the small girl sitting between the man and the woman. Connor and Hank sat across from them.

“My name is Kara. This is my daughter Alice and my husband Luther,” the lady named Kara spoke. Her eyes still on Alice, she spoke again. “How did you find us?” 

Connor perked up. “See, since androids are now citizens in America, we found a lead on a hate crime around the outskirts of Detroit, specifically the home of  Paul Munoz . In the basement, we found…” Connor looked down at the girl, tapping away at a tablet happily. He mouthed the next part to spare the girl. ‘ _ Destroyed androids. _ ’ 

“We found a biocomponent that matched you, Luther Jerry.”

“That’s Zlatko’s place,” Kara spoke, turning to Luther. He nodded slowly. Hank looked between then, furrowing his brows. 

“Who the fu-” He remembered the girl was still there. “-heck is Zlatko?” He finished. Connor gave Hank a smile of approval.

“He’s dead now, but he’d trap deviants and other androids to sell them or to experiment with,” Kara said softly, wrapping her arm protectively around Alice. Luther looked up. 

“Zlatko had a brother named Paul. He would accompany him sometimes,” Luther said, looking between the cops. “I was trapped there for a few years.” 

Connor gave a sympathetic look to the family. Processing the information, he asked his next question.

“Would you happen to know where Paul could be?” Connor asked. Both Kara and Luther shook their heads no. Connor nodded, storing the information he had gathered. Standing up, he looked at Hank.

“I think we have all the information we need.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What'd you think of this chapter? It was twice as long today!


	7. Report

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fluff chapter for our precious boy Connor.

**Connor's POV**

“Doctor?” A muffled voice came from the other side of your front door. It had been the afternoon of your day off, and you planned on spending it well. After a moment, a few other knocks were placed upon it. The voice sounded concerned now as knocks began to increase in intensity. 

After a few moments of silence, the front door of your apartment creaked open. Connor stepped in, shutting the door behind him. Connor and Hank’s investigation went well today, and as ordered by Hank he was here to update you on their findings. Something about you asking to be kept updated.

Taking a few steps into your apartment, Connor walked softly and quietly as not to alert any danger. Then, Connor called out hesitantly.

“Doctor? It’s me, Connor, I’m here to update you on the case-” and then he saw you. You were asleep on your couch, an open bottle of whiskey sitting on your coffee table next to your phone and remove. Some old movie from the 2000’s flashed across your TV, the audio becoming nothing but white noise in the room. 

Connor leaned down over you, his receptors catching your BAC in one whiff. He scanned your BMI and the possible amount of alcohol consumed, looking for signs of alcohol poisoning. After that came back negative, Connor stepped back. He noticed how awkwardly you were sitting; your neck bent slightly and your back flat against the texture of the couch. Deciding that it would be better for you to sleep in your bed, he quickly made the decision that he was going to bring you there. 

Placing one arm underneath your neck, he slid his other arm underneath your knees as he lifted you up. Careful not to trip Connor carried you to the first room he could find with a bed in it. Pushing open the door awkwardly, Connor moved into the room until he was close enough to the bed. Though Connor could see in the dark, he still handled you carefully in the dark environment. Placing you down into the unmade bed, he placed a blanket over you in attempt to keep you warm. Connor watched you for a moment, seeing how your face flashed with emotions due to the REM stage of sleep. Connor gave a small smile for seemingly no reason. 

Stepping back from the bed and out of the room, Connor shut the door as quietly as he could. Turning back towards the living room, he decided it would be best to clean the mess you had made. His hands wrapped around the half-empty whiskey bottle as he lifted it up. Moving into your kitchen, Connor quickly scanned it until he found the cabinet with the rest of the alcohol. Placing the whiskey alongside other various bottles, Connor took a few steps back into the living room. He wrapped his hand around a shot glass and his other around a small pile of trash. 

Connor swiftly moved back into the kitchen where he placed the shot glass on the counter. Tossing the trash from the living room away, he turned back to the shot glass where he quickly rinsed it under the faucet. 

Unknowingly, you crept back into Connor’s mind as he cleaned. He thought about what you said. He thought about your threat, Hank’s question, and what he thought of you.  _ I’m going to kill that motherfucker _ your voice rank out in his ears. He decided that if anyone else were to have said that, it wouldn’t have mattered. But you said it. Why was it different with you?

Placing the shot glass in its respective cabinet, he decided on his answer to Hank’s question. It spurred a negative reaction in him not because he thought you meant it or it’s content, it was because it was something  _ you _ said.

Connor shook his head, leaving the thoughts to themselves. Connor moved back into the living room, straightening out pillows and folding blankets. Once he agreed that his work was satisfactory, Connor walked into the kitchen and swung open a medicine cabinet. Pulling out a container that contained the drug  Ibuprofen. Pulling out a capsule of 400mg, Connor placed it on the counter. Placing the cap on the pill bottle, he put the drug away in its respective cabinet. Spinning on his heels, Connor grabbed a cup and swiftly filled the cup with water. Placing it near the pill, Connor pulled open a drawer filled with miscellaneous objects and materialized a pen and notecard. In neat, robotic handwriting, Connor wrote down  _ Please take this to help with your headache. Check your email for the case report. - Connor _ .

Placing the notecard down next to the pill and the water, Connor quickly forwarded the case report he had written right before coming here to you. Turning around, Connor shut off the lights in your living room as well as the other ones in your dining room and kitchen, only leaving a small, overhead stove light on to highlight the notecard. 

Connor retreated from the apartment, careful to lock the door behind himself for your own safety. As he walked out from your apartment on the cool, concrete pathway, he smiled down at his shoes, feeling a new emotion. He couldn’t pinpoint it, so after running a diagnostics and quick internet search, he labelled this new emotion of a mix of pride, vindication, and happiness. He quite liked the feeling, so he stored it away in his files for a later time.

Stepping down the metal stairs until his feet hit actual ground, Connor moved in the night towards his car- or well, Hank’s car. Unlocking it, Connor moved into the front seat. As he started the car, he couldn’t help but think what it would be like to get to know you. Sure, he knew plenty on you, but not the things that matter. Not to him, at least. He felt like he wanted to know what sorts of things you listened to, or what your hobbies were. What sorts of books did you read?

Connor blinked a few times, his right hand pulling the gear stick into reverse and backing out of your apartment’s parking lot, his mind still focused on you. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicating this chapter to Mimi (Frey_ster on Twitter) for being absolutely so supportive and everything. What'd you guys think of this one?


	8. Advancement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is 4 times as large as a typical chapter, so enjoy! I didn't update yesterday due to family issues, but I did rewrite chapter one if you'd like to read it. The same idea, just updated.

The light that streamed in through the small cracks of your closed blinds, once deemed beautiful, were your worst enemy now. You rolled on your side, trying your best to ignore the golden light that only made your headache then worse. After a few moments, you finally caved into what was awareness and your conscious began to creep back into your head, however bad that may be.

Memories from yesterday began popping up back into your head, taking up all your attention until it was the only thing you could think of. You dropped your head as your ripped the blankets off of yourself, the cold air biting at your skin and threatening you to fall back into the bliss that sleep was. 

You remembered taking a shot last night, thinking that’d it do the opposite of that, thinking. Your brain buzzed on and on about what had happened days ago, what you witnessed and how you could’ve done better. Then it was another shot. And another. 

It had gotten to the point that you were so drunk it didn’t seem to matter anymore. It sunk down into the depths of your mind, just as you hoped it would. Of course, now you’re paying for the consequences. You were unkind to your future self, and you vowed never again.

Swinging your feet from the bed, your bare feet made contact with the lonely ground, once again reminding you that you indeed should buy slippers. Shaking that thought from your head, you moved out of your room, shutting the door behind you. The sight discombobulated you, causing your brows to furrow and for you to evaluate what you’d done last night. In fact, you wondered how you’d moved from your couch to your bed, clearly remembering falling asleep to a cheap rerun of some 2000’s show. 

Moving into the kitchen, a glass of water and an empty, clean counter caught your attention. Advancing towards it, your fingers wrapped around an old note card that read out  _ Please take this to help with your headache. Check your email for the case report. - Connor _ . You frowned at the message. Was Connor in your apartment last night? Is he in your apartment  _ now _ ? You glanced around uncertainty before your fingers moved down to the easily identifiable pill, ibuprofen. You dropped the pill back down next to the water, moving to the cabinets to emerge some resemblance of what a breakfast looks like. In reality, it was an overpriced granola bar that you had gotten in a pack a few months back. 

Usually, you skipped out on breakfast, but in order to take something like ibuprofen, you have to have something in your body. Taking pills like that on an empty stomach do nothing good for you, short disintegrating the layers of your stomach. As a doctor, you loved the knowledge that you learned, but in times like this, it was burdensome in a civil, minor way. 

Taking the last bite of your granola bar, you washed it down with a small sip of water presented on the counter neatly. Picking up the small pill again, you placed it on your tongue and washed it down quickly with the water. Glancing at the clock over your stove, the time read 8:23 AM.

“Shoot,” you muttered, placing the glass of water back onto the counter. You should’ve been at the station an hour and 30 minutes ago. Rushing off towards your bedroom and out of your kitchen, you quickly pulled your drawers to your dresser open, sifting through the mess until you pulled out a dark blue scrub top. Tossing it on your messy bed, you continued sifting through your dresser in search of the blue scrub pants. 

Finally, after a minute, you emerge the pair to your shirt. Snatching up the two, you quickly begin to change right there.

 

* * *

 

Just like the night before, Connor placed a few soft knocks on your apartment door. He’d resisted coming, but his own newfound emotion clouded his judgement. See, Connor arrived to work on time, 7:00 AM. After an hour had passed, Connor began to get worried, wondering where you were. Even Hank arrived before you, cursing profanities at the slight inconvenience of someone being late, even if he was guilty of it a thousand times over.

That’s what led Connor here, dressed sleek and his hand curled into a fist, jumping on the texture of your door in an attempt to catch your attention. After another knock on deaf ears, Connor’s hand moved from the door down until it fell across the metal knob of your door. Twisting it for a moment, the door remained locked. Instead of attempting to open the door again, Connor knocked on the door with a little for force until a lock unhinged and the door swung open.

Oddly, this surprised Connor. He quickly analyzed you before words or emotions could register. You wore a pair of dark blue scrubs which differed from your light grey ones. This gave Connor the idea that you were rushed - or maybe just behind on laundry. Your ruffled, unruly hair gave way for the first option as well. Next, Connor noticed your lack of shoes or socks, and when he finally moved back into what felt like regular time, he could see as you breathily motioned for him to come in.

“Hey Connor,” you quickly spoke, shutting the apartment door behind him. Walking off towards the direction of your bedroom, you turned your head slightly until your head lied on your shoulder and you spoke again, saying “I’m sorry I’m late, see last night I-”

“Got drunk?” Connor interrupted, finishing your sentence with a twist of positivity. Now out of his view, Connor stood in the living room as you rustled around in your bedroom, hearing the soft patting of your feet hitting the ground as you moved. A smile crept up on his unbeknownst to him.

“I mean, not the words I would’ve chosen, but yes,” your muffled voice came, moving around intensely in your bedroom. Connor opened his mouth to speak, but before he could another string of dialogue emerged from your mouth. “Also, I got your message on the counter this morning,” you called out.

“Did I overstep my boundaries?” Connor quickly inquired, more to himself than you. He had thought about that last night on his ride home, his mind scanning through plenty forms of media to understand that people traditionally did not walk into someone’s home uninvited. 

“Not at all,” you replied again, now emerging from your room with socks on. Plopping down on the couch, you grabbed neat shoes as you elevated a leg, quickly unlacing one shoe until you could slide it over your clothed foot.

“Actually, the cleaning did scare me a bit,” you spoke again, breathily moving on to your next shoe, repeating the process. Connor watched for a moment, seeing your body move and how your face flashed from one emotion to the next, readable, but not really. He could tell that one face was happy but in the next moment it was unsure, and when Connor stepped back to look at the big picture, he couldn't pinpoint what you were feeling at all, which flustered him beyond belief. 

Finally, you laced up your shoes and moved to your feet, moving towards the direction of the door, your hand softly wrapping around Connor’s bicep as you went, steering him in your direction. When you both appeared outside, just a few feet from your door, you shut it quickly and placing the key into the lock. Turning it swiftly until you both heard a metal pop, you pulled the key out, shoving it into your pocket.

You and Connor quickly flew down the stairs for a few floors, a comfortable silence settling between you two. All that could be heard was the small pit-pat of your feet hitting the metal stairs until you both hit solid ground. Moving to unlock your car, Connor gave you an odd look, gesturing to his ride, Hank’s old car. You blinked for a second.

“Look, my car is already here,” Connor spoke, pulling the keys out from the sleek blazer that he donned. “I’ll just bring you home after work,” Connor promised, moving in the direction of Hank’s car, unlocking it. You followed his movements, giving Connor a small nod as a new emotion fell over you, but even someone who’s had their whole lives to figure an emotion is bound to have bald spots. 

“Hey,” you muttered, slipping into the front seat alongside Connor. “Thanks,” you said quickly, feeling slightly flushed as you reached for Connor’s DPD tablet. You cleared your throat for a second, catching Connor’s attention. “Can I borrow this? I need to check out the case report,” you inquired. Connor, eyes still on the road, gave a quick nod. You felt as if there was something to be said between you two, but nothing emerged and the bright aura that hung around both of you had just the slightest bit of tension mixed in, nearly undetectable in Connor’s software and within your own mind.

 

* * *

 

After updating yourself on the case and receiving a little bit of a verbal scolding from Fowler, you stood next to Connor and Hank, awaiting a mission. Connor pulled Hank’s keys from his pocket and dropped it onto Hank’s desk. After a moment, Hank spoke up. 

“Since you read over the case, you know that we’ve found out about the whole brothers' thing, right?” Hank spoke, looking at you. After you nodded, Hank’s eyes flashed from yours to Connor’s. “Those people told us that the Zlatko guy was dead,” he spoke, almost asking, but answered quickly. “Says here that he lives here in Detroit, not to far from here.”

Hank said, turning his monitor for me to see. Connor, brows furrowed, moved from his seat to stand behind us, looking at the computer too. Along with an address, came a number, a registered credit card, basically anything you’d see on a normal person. Hank spoke again. “It appears our friends from Canada lied to us,” he spoke, malice intertwining into his words.

“Lieutenant, I didn’t detect any lies from them on the missio-”

Hank lifted his hand and cut Connor off. Sighing, Hank cleared his throat and spoke again. “I’m going to head back to the crime scene to gather more information on what we’re dealing with,” Hank said, slightly deflated. “Connor, you go out and arrest the Zlatko guy. We’ll bring him in for questioning, but we must disregard what those androids in Canada told us.” 

You looked between the two, feeling some tension. Then, you spoke before you could think. “What am I supposed to do?” You asked brassly for a moment, meeting Hank’s eyes. He looked at you and thought for a moment, his eyes moving down to his computer for a moment. Not looking up, he spoke. 

“Just go with Connor,” he muttered out, making you slightly warm with anger as it moved throughout your body. You did not like being treated as a pawn to be shifted around at will, but he was your boss and you said nothing. Turning to Connor with a clenched jaw, you gave him a solidary look that begged him to leave. Connor, scanning you briefly, gave a quick nod. Moving towards the door they emerged from only a few moments before, you followed him out, and when the door of the Detroit Police Department swung shut, the words came rushing out of your mouth without warning.

“Can he do that? Just treat me like a pawn to be used when need?” You turned to Connor, seeing his brows dip compassionately as he peered into your eyes. You dropped your gaze, eyes on the ground as you spoke your next words. “I’m sorry, Connor. I shouldn’t take this out on you,” you muttered. Scuffing the bottom of your shoe on the ground, you looked back up and added: “I was late anyways, maybe this is my punishment?” You said, more to yourself than him. You eyes widened a bit you added on to your words, flustered. “Not working with you, I mean Lieutenant treating-”

“Doctor,” Connor spoke, drawing your attention back up to him, your words falling away as you listened to him. “I understand,” he added, a small smile ghosting over his face, but it seemed tight and held back. You gave a quick nod, attempting to shake off the red flush that crept up onto your cheeks. Moving away from Connor awkwardly, you moved in the direction of an unused squad car, pointing to Hank’s.

“I assume he needs that to get to the crime scene?” You asked quickly, looking up to see Connor. He gave a quick nod, moving into the passenger seat of the squad car. It was a bit old fashioned ever since they upgraded to self-driving cars, but you were thankful they kept them around in instances such as these.

 

* * *

 

You pulled into the driveway of the address, keeping a distance from the house and road. You twisted the key softly until the engine died and pulled the key from the car. Stuffing it into your pocket, you opened the door and stepped out, Connor doing the same. Shutting the door behind you, you waited until Connor did the same to reach back into your pocket and lock the car.

Moving away from the car alongside Connor, you looked up at him briefly, watching him as his eyes stayed glued to the front door of the house. You looked away when you both walked up the stairs to the porch of the small house, your eyes moving to the door, too.

Connor placed a few knocks on the house door, hearing it echo for a moment within the house. The shuffling within the house was a little off putting, but after a few moments, a few locks unhinged and the door to a very dark house swung open, and standing there was definitely  _ not _ Zlatko.  

Ideas popped in and out of your mind, running around trying to explain why the man here looked nothing like Zlatko. Was your hungover distorting what you saw? Standing here in front of you was most definitely Paul Munoz. You’d reviewed the brother’s medical cases a dozen times over, and the way his frown lines contorted and along with his height, hair, weight… This was most definitely Paul Munoz.

After the split second of your revelation, you mind then raced on to explain why he was believed to be Zlatko. Your mind moved back and forth until some semblance of an explanation hit you. See, Zlatko lived under the roof of Munoz and Munoz lived under the roof of Zlatko. Munoz assumed the identity Zlatko, who has no death record, but according to the androids in Canada, died. The two must’ve lived together, running that business. Then, when Zlatko died, Munoz assumed his identity and that’s why he was classified as a missing persons case.

Farfected, yes. A close possibility, also yes. 

“Hello, my name is Connor. I’m from the Detroit Police Department-” Connor’s voice cut through your thoughts. You looked up at him for a second, wondering if he’d put the pieces together, too. His face was blank and void of emotion, so it was hard to tell. “We just need to bring you into questioning for-”

Connor’s voice abruptly stopped due to the force that Munoz applied, slamming him down on the nearest wall to them. The action caught you off guard, and for a moment, you thought you could see a flash of emotion pass through him. The man, Munoz, looked up at you, a panicked, angry look in his eyes. “You guys sent a fucking android to bring me in?” He asked, his arm wrapped around to the artificial skin of Connor’s arm. There’s no way he could’ve known Connor was an android prior to touching him.

“Paul Munoz,” the words slipped from your lips simply. “Should I add assault to your long list of crimes, including identity fraud, murder in the first degree-” Then, you stopped talking as the man began running. Glancing at Connor, you both perked up and began moving towards the target. Connor instantly pulled ahead of you, proving and android body better than a human’s. 

Slipping past the side of the house, the man quickly jumped over a fence, and as your legs pushed hard, you followed them. He was running towards the heart of Detroit. 

You pressed your legs down harder, feeling them slamming down on the dirt as you spun up debris in your wake. You three ran in a beeline for a few moments, the ground transitioning from dirt to cement and the familiar area of Detroit came into view. The muscles in your legs began to squeeze, but the adrenaline pumping through your body made you immune to the feeling of your unused muscles tearing apart as you followed in pursuit.

You only briefly caught the view of the man jumping up onto a fire escape of a fairly sizeable building as you cut the corner. You watched Connor pull himself up onto the fire escape, still in pursuit. 

Skidding to a turn, you moved your trajectory to getting as high up on the fire escape as possible. Now, your body was dipping into the last reserves of oxygen as heavy breathing gripped you in a death hold. You jumped up onto a car, using the extra height to throw yourself at the fire escape. Your hands wrapped around the black metal until your pulled yourself over, quickly moving to your feet and up the stairs.

Your breathing stopped as a gunshot rang out, but your legs only seemed to pull your farther and higher than before, the pain become numb in them as you appeared on the top of the roof, your head searching wildly for the two, your legs still pushing the ground away as if life depended on it. The sight of Paul Munoz caught you for a second, seeing him hunched over, hands on his knees, breathing heavy. You used the last of the adrenaline you pull yourself over the side of the building and throw yourself on the roof of the next, quickly moving to your feet.

Just as you caught Munoz’s gaze, you caught Connor’s too, laid down on the stoney roof in a pile of blue, leaking around him. The metal on his chest was torn away by a bullet, and the man and the gun who had done it was standing right there, hunched over in an attempt to breathe. Your mind slowed down for a moment, watching as your movements slowed, but your thoughts still buzzed past endlessly, tearing at your mind until your shrill voice cut them away.

“Connor!” You yelled, disregarding Paul Munoz completely, collapsing onto your knees.

Moving down to Connor’s side, all thoughts of the case fell away. Your hands quickly moved to Connor’s chest, examining him with distress, but the shock and extra layer of adrenaline kept you sane. You pulled back a piece of metal carefully, speaking as soothing as you could, seeing thirium leaking from his main biocomponent. The bullet grazed the side of it, and as quickly as you identified it, Connor’s thirium regulator began fading red. The look on Connor’s face made your stomach twist, but instead, your hand moved down to the hip of Connor and pulled out his gun, quickly cocking it back as you spun in your place, holding the gun up to Munoz, your hands painted blue. 

“What the hell? He’s not one of us,” Paul Munoz quickly spoke, shoving his finger objectively towards Connor. The statement burned fury into your skin, heating it up as you felt your body’s high began to fall.

“Drop the gun, or so help me god I will blow the brains out of your head,” you spat, your hand twitching around the gun. You watched as the distressed man fiddled with the gun, and in the split second, you understood. As he lifted the gun to match you, cocked and loaded, you nearly laughed. “You’re not afraid to kill an android, but you are afraid to kill a human,” you stated simply, watching as shock passed over Munoz’s face. “Unlike you, I’m not afraid to shoot a human.”

Just as you moved to squeeze the trigger, a voice tore you away. Listening over your shoulder, Connor’s weak voice emerged. “Don’t… Sh...Shoot, Doctor,” his words came. The words conflicted and bounced around your head until they froze, and you couldn’t decide whether to listen to them or not. The words pressed against your mind, taking up every last thought until they were all you heard, the noise from the world fading away. You caved.

Taking a hasity step forward, you slammed the handle of your gun as on Munoz’s temple as hard as possible, letting his legs collapse underneath him until he laid down on the cement too. In the moment, you briefly considered gently squeezing the trigger of the gun until the round escaped the gun and entered the body of him.

Dropping the gun, you turned your attention to Connor, falling back to his side. You hands words like clockwork, ripping clothing away and checking vitals as you spoke to him.

“I’ve.. Called for…” You listened closely to him as your hand pulled back some metal. “Backup,” he muttered, his eyes beginning to shut. Cursing underneath your breath, you knew what needed to be done. If he died, that’d be it. No more Cyberlife bringing him to life or anything.

You plunged your hand into Connor’s chest, trusting yourself as you moved your hand around from wires and circuit boards, shutting your eyes as your ears deafened, feeling around. Soon as your hand reached the thirium regulator, you wrapped your hand tightly around the red part, your hand skimming over it until you reached the destroyed side, wrapping your hand around it to prevent any more thirium loss. Looking softly at Connor, you swallowed, seeing the ounce of energy and life remaining within him. All you could see was him.

It seemed you stood there for forever, your hand around the overcompensating heart in your hands. Even as police and medics rushed around you two, collecting Munoz, your ears remained deafened and eyes fixated on Connor, images flashing by of the androids you saw only days ago. Connor couldn’t join them. Like hell, he would.

It was only then that a medic placed his hand on your shoulder that your senses came back to you, the loud sounds of sirens whistling past in the air. You looked from the medic down to Connor, becoming aware of all the medics around you, ready to take over Connor from your care. Your breath deepened as the day’s events caught up with you, your legs aching from overuse and your mind frozen from overstressing. Your lungs grabbed at the air, pulling it in and out of your lungs as the adrenaline and shock passed from your system.

As one explained what they’d do to remove your hand from his chest, your ears left focus until the only thing you could hear was your heartbeat and Connor’s, thumping angrily in your ears, forcing you to see only one.

Images of Hank flashed in your mind, too. How’d he’d react to his son in this state. How would he handle another loss of a son? How would he react knowing that not only was his son on the brink of death, but that he was the one who sent him out here?

Your senses gripped at your arms and legs, reaching up towards your body until it wrapped around your head, shaking your mind and body until what felt like was a miles away was in front of you. You took a large breath, taking in the air around you. You jumped from face to face until you understood, and as you moved your hand from Connor’s chest, a medic quickly placed a patch over it until they could officially handle it. 

As they took him away, all you could do it sit there, wondering how in hell you’d ever become a doctor getting this upset over people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you guys think? Sorry, not sorry.


	9. Questions

You sat in the viewing area of the interrogation room next to Gavin, who head was resting in his hands. You slumped in your seat as you watched Hank though the one-way mirror, watching as he yelled out demands to Munoz. Nothing emerged from the man, though, leaving Hank more frustrated than before he entered. The dark room paved the way to the thoughts of Connor that jumped and skated around your mind, even though you tried avoiding them like a plague, remaining focused. You thought about Hank, too. Nobody dared tell him what had happened to Connor - you planned to tell him after you received an update on him. As far as he knew, Connor was handling business back at the scene. 

Hank bust out from the interrogation room, joining Gavin and you in the seats. Falling back into them with a heavy sigh, his head fell back in frustration. After a few moments of silence, Fowler spoke up. “We don’t have any more options,” he sighed, moving from his chair to his feet. His hand rested on the bridge of his nose, squeezing it tightly. “Throw him in the cell. We’ll have to try again tomorrow.”

“I can try,” your voice piped up after a second, causing everyone’s gaze to meet yours. Hank’s eyes met yours as he moved out from the chair, standing with his arms folded across his chest. After a moment of silence, Gavin’s voice erupted in a mocking laugh, causing you to sink farther in your seat. After Gavin’s voice died down, Fowler spoke again. 

“You’re an intern. Plus, you’re a medic-” Fowler started, hands on his hips, but was quickly cut off by Hank, who threw a glance your way, clearing his throat.

“She was at the scene,” Hank stated simply, drawing the attention to him. “She knows first hand what happened.” Hank finished, throwing his hands up in the last resort manner. He Fowler looked down for a second, considering the option when Gavin spoke up. 

“Wait, you’re not seriously considering letting her talk to a criminal like that, are you?” Gavin said, pointing a finger between you and Fowler. Fowler looked back up, his gaze jumping from Gavin to Hank, finally landing on you.

“We have no other options, Gavin,” Fowler spoke towards him, then shifting his attention to you. “Five minutes,” he spoke, causing you to jump up from your seat. You flashed a smile towards Hank, who hesitantly reciprocated. Turning towards Fowler, he added to his promise. “But as soon as something goes south, we’re jumping in there to pull you out.” 

You nodded Fowler’s way, taking a few steps towards the interrogation door. As you stood next to it, Hank reached over and placed his hand on the security panel to unlock it, the door swinging open as you pushed through it, allowing you to step into the room. Taking a step into the room, the huge metal door sealed shut behind you, encasing you in the room with Munoz. As you took a few steps towards the empty chair, Munoz looked up and met your gaze for a second, an unreadable emotion passing through his face for a moment. Slipping into the chair, you swallowed as you began your questioning. 

At first, you said nothing, just starting at Munoz. It felt unreal to you, sitting in front of the man that nearly killed Connor. Sitting in front of a murderer who’d killed so many androids. You’d always think a mass murderer would be vicious and angry, but here Munoz sat, head down and demeanour deflated.

“What’s your name?” You asked timidly. For a second, Munoz looked up at you, his jaw squeezed shut as his eyes bore into your own. He sighed loudly, placing his gaze back onto the table he was sat at. You cleared your throat, making Munoz shake his head, trying to ignore you. Then, you asked again, a little more firm. “What’s your name?”

The words bounced around the room for a few moments before more words were thrown into the room. Paul Munoz looked up at you, his head turned slightly to the side, jaw still squeezed shut. He sighed, looking up at you. “Why didn’t you shoot?” He asked, taking you by surprise. His voice was rough and slightly angry but mostly deflated.

“Listen, you’ll answer my questions first. Then I’ll answer yours,” you compromised, quickly, a dulled, angry look still spread across your face. After a moment, he tore from the look and nodded his head. Images of him with a gun towards you flashed in your mind for a moment. Then, images of Connor appeared, the lifelessness in his eyes paling in comparison to the bright blue of his blood around him. You shook your head, shaking the anger from you. Shaking the worry away. You let out a sigh, then repeated the same question again, emphasizing each word strongly, breaking each one apart with your hand slamming down onto the table. “What’s your name?”

“Zlat-” He started, but you quickly cut him off with the wave of your hand. He sighed, his eyes falling onto the table again. “Paul Munoz,” he spoke, almost like a child who was in trouble, clearing his throat. You stood from your chair, placing your hands on the table. Softly but with passion, you let the next words escape your lips. 

“Look, the less honest you are the longer you’re going to be here. Either say the truth-” you froze for a second, lifting your hands off the table. “Or  _ your  _ questions will fall on deaf ears,” you finished, falling back into your chair. “You ready to talk?” 

At that moment, you wished you could be sympathetic. Your best deal could be pretending to be ‘good cop’, but your pride and own damn emotions clouded that path that only wanted you to go farther down the intimidation route. You were fairly small compared to this guy and not to mention that you were somebody who embodied and displayed kindness as best and as often as you could. Something about this man brought out the worst in you. More accurately,  _ Connor _ brought this out in you. Punching Gavin, threatening Munoz, nearly shooting him...

No, you thought for a moment. It wasn’t Connor who did this. It’s what you felt for Connor. For the connection, you felt straight away, regardless if the feelings spawned from friendship and not romantic feelings. Well, that’s what you thought.

“Why’d you assume your brother’s identity?” You spoke, interrupting your own thoughts. Munoz lifted his head to meet your eyes, who leaned over the desk slightly as words erupted from his mouth. He leaned over, his head in his hand.

“Look, my brother did some terrible stuff to those things under  _ my _ roof. I was taking the heat from it, and so when he died, I just took his name. As far as you guys knew, he wasn’t involved. When those damn robot  _ things  _ attacked him, I couldn’t say in that house anymore,” he spoke, his deflated voice ringing around the room. For a second, you almost felt sympathetic, but the images of Connor crept back into your mind, causing you to focus once more. 

“When my team and I got to your house, the blood there was fresh and blue. It’s common knowledge that the stuff fades clear. Did you murder the androids there?” You asked, taking a hefty breath as you tried to let your bias fall away, though it still hung around, regardless.

“I was only finishing what they started,” the man spoke, looking down at the table miserably. Then, when he looked up, his face seemed creased in pain. “Can’t you see? All I was doing was avenging my brother.”

You swallowed hard. This was most certainly new, and the feelings the came with it angered you. You expected to walk into this room to get a confession, not to get twisted in guilt and stand between the line of fury and sympathy for an asshole like this. He killed so many androids.  _ He shot Connor for fucks sake! _

“We’ve got a confession,” you announced loudly, pushing yourself out from your chair suddenly. Your words were suddenly cold, now. You sighed loudly, confused where your own loyalties lie. As you began to move away from it towards the door, Munoz’s voice rang out angrily.

“You promised me you’d answer my questions,” he spoke, standing up, causing the table to skid slightly. The screeching sound it made against the floor caused you to freeze, and you sighed. Turning back around but not sitting, you nodded towards him, letting him ask his questions.

“Why didn’t you shoot me?” He asked, his voice pleading for your response. For a second, you thought, analyzing your thoughts for an answer. You sighed, opening your mouth to deliver a hesitant response.

“He asked me not to,” you spoke. “The android I was with asked me not to shoot you,” you replied, watching the man’s face in front of you as he processed your answer. Then, he spoke up again. 

“Why would you listen to it? It’s not alive,” he asked, the words encircling you, but not angering you as you would’ve expected. You cleared your throat again before speaking, meeting his gaze. You answered calmly.

“That’s what you think. For all you know, I could be an android, and _ you  _ think  _ I’m  _ alive,” you answered, causing Munoz’s head to drop as he fell back into his chair. He processed your words as you turned back around towards the door, ready to leave.

“Did he die?” Munoz’s voice came, making you freeze in your spot. “Did that android die? When I shot him?”

Instead of answering, you continued moving towards the metal door, it opening as you neared it. Pulling at the door, you sighed. Swallowing hard, you knew you’d have to face Hank now. He knew. He’d heard what everyone else did.

Stepping through the door and shutting it behind you, the gazes of your coworkers met yours, officers moving past you into the room to remove Munoz from the room. You quickly scanned the room for the familiar face of Hank, but to your surprise, you didn’t see him. You met the face of an angered Gavin, satisfied Fowler, and dulled faced of other officers. Pushing past them, you erupted into the main building, catching the sight of Hank, who was walking away from the room. Moving quickly towards him, you caught sight of the face he wore - a rational mix of anger and worry. 

“Lieutenant-” you started, moving towards Hank. When you were close enough for a conversation, you spoke again. “I’m sor-”

“Why the hell did I have to fuckin’ find out my son’s nearly dead through an interrogation?” Hank pulled the phone from his ear down. He took a shaky breath. “I don’t know who the hell you think you are, walking into my fuckin’ station for one month and thinkin’ you own the damn place.”

You swallowed, understanding full well you deserved this. You had the the choice to tell him, and you didn’t. What kind of person are you? Interrupting your thoughts, Hank’s hand slammed onto the wall next to you, causing a loud bang to erupt. Gazes from the station turned your way for a second, but bouncing right back after they noticed Hank. You looked down, unable to hold his heavy gaze any longer.

“Why does this always fuckin’ happen to me?” He asked, his voice cracking slightly. You caught a glimpse of Hank’s phone, seeing Connor’s contact open. You quickly realized he was trying to call Connor, and you felt even worse than before. Unfortunately, you knew all about Cole, Hank’s previous son who’d died in a car crash a few years back. Could he be feeling these things all over again?

“Tell me what happened at the scene. In fuckin’ detail,” Hank growled out, drawing your gaze to his. “Actually, you’ll tell me in the car ride to the Cyberlife center.”

 

 


	10. Is that a Yes?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally went on vacation and didn't say anything. It took me a few days to gear back up!! Whoops, at least I'm back now!

The car ride to the Cyberlife center was understandably awkward; questions and projection of worries placed on you from an anxious father. You tried to keep yourself calm, the projection from Hank was all that you considered understandable. A loss of a son is devastating, the loss of another would be deadly. 

Standing in the Cyberlife center, requesting to check up on Connor, Hank’s hands folded neatly behind his back. The woman at the desk looked at you both for a moment before looking down at her computer, typing something in before glancing at the screen. When she looked back up, both Hank and you were on edge to know.

“He’s alright. He’ll need to stay here for a while since he’s a prototype. We don’t carry parts to repair his model, so they’ve placed in an order,” the woman said, looking up at Hank and you, waiting for a reply. Hank’s face viably relaxed, a breath escaping that he didn’t know he was holding.

“There’s no way he can come home? Any way to see him?” Hank spoke, his voice soft and vulnerable, causing you to turn to him with a puzzled expression on his face. The woman looked between you two before typing something briefly onto her computer and looking back up, clearing her throat simply.

“He’s stable, but if anything were to happen to him-” The woman started, explaining kindly ‘ _ no _ .’ Hank sighed, letting out a dejected sigh.

“I’m a doctor,” you quickly spoke, tearing the woman’s words with your own. Hank’s gaze moved to you, his lips slightly parted as unspoken words escaped from his mouth. The woman looked up to you, her brows furrowing for a moment before you spoke again. “Look me up,” your words came before your actions, your hands moving to your pockets to pull out a leather wallet, something made from the early 2000’s. You quickly pulled your identity chip from one of the pockets before sliding it over the counter. The woman hesitantly pulled it towards her, quickly scanning it and reading it over carefully. 

“It’d just be until the parts come in,” you spoke, tearing the woman’s gaze back up to you. She gave a small sigh before standing up, her chair moving back appropriately. Hank and you both watched her intently, waiting for a reply. 

“I can’t make that decision,” the woman spoke, handing the chip back to you. Both you and Hank deflated for a moment before the woman’s voice picked back up. “...but I can ask Connor’s mechanic,” she finished, turning on her heels and disappearing through a door.

After about ten minutes or so, the woman returned with another woman. The new woman donned a white coat and tied back hair, a look of exhaustion of hanging over her face. When you met the new woman’s gaze, her face lit up with a smile.

“Is that you?” The woman inquired, your name rolling off her tongue softly. Your eyes darted around her features, racking your mind from where she knew you from. Then, memories of medical school flashed around in your mind. She looked different then, her hair was longer and a completely different colour. You both had Android Anatomy together since she wanted to be a mechanic and you wanted to be a medic. You envied her android brain and the fact that she absorbed information that never left her brain, but humans had the advantage of problem-solving where information blanked. Androids calculated outcomes, they did not problem solve. Mechs and Medics are near enough the same now. Both fields merged so closely nowadays. 

“Jenna Hahn,” you spoke, the name of the woman illuminating her face. The woman beamed a smile before taking a few steps towards you. You cleared your throat and picked up your voice again. “My coworker, Connor Anderson-”

“He’s fine. We had to order a few parts since he’s a prototype, but he’s stable,” Dr Hahn interrupted, causing you to pause your words. You looked back up at her and waited for her to finish. “I was informed on the situation,” Dr Hahn spoke, glancing towards the original woman. “He’d probably have to stay here for a week waiting for those parts,” Dr Hahn broke off, nodding at you. “If I sign off on the release form, you, as the doctor, need to stay with him at all times. You’ll need to keep wiping the thirium, engage in basic android care-”

“Is that a yes?” You interrupted, a grin spreading across your face. Dr Hahn chuckled for a moment.

“Only if you follow my steps and allow him at least 16 hours of stasis mode,” she finished, causing you to give her a bright grin. “I’ll go get him now.”

 

* * *

 

The car ride to your home was as expected, you sat in the back with Connor, his arm around you for support. Hank and you conversed about Connor’s living arrangements, agreeing it would be best for him to stay at your house. Hank also brought up the idea of him sleeping over a few nights, and after what happened to him, you didn’t have the heart to tell him no.

Connor hardly seemed conscious, most likely due to the interactions of his wires from Dr Hahn. The less ability he had to control his body, the less likely he’ll go out and injure himself again. Androids were notorious for it; the lack of pain made them oblivious to the extent of damage they end up conducting. His half-lidded eyes focused on you, occasionally releasing a chuckle that drew both you and Hank’s attention. Or as you called it, the android equivalent of being drunk.

 

* * *

 

Arriving home was no issue. Hank helped carry Connor up into your apartment, laying him down on the couch. Hank attempted to talk to Connor, but after a few mumbled, unintelligible responses, you sent him off on a mission to get you some medical supplies from the nearby Pharmacy. He abided with no problem, mentioning that he’d stop by his place to gather a few things to stay over. You decided Connor would be better off with a larger surface area than your couch. 

Placing your arm under Connor’s neck and under his knees, you lifted him gently, not realizing how heavy an android could be. Moving towards your bedroom, you felt a sort of deja vu, but you could not pin where something like this had happened. The way Connor looked in your arms caused your face to colour with a shade of red, but you shook the thoughts away.

Wrapping your arm around his head as you placed him down on your pillow, you gave Connor a small, simple smile. His gaze followed your eyes intently as you moved him, making you self-conscious, your face heating with a soft, pink glow. You gave faint smile as you moved your eyes from Connor down, letting your small hands guide you. You wrapped your hands around Connor’s legs, moving them onto the bed. Connor’s gaze still watched you intently, his head resting on the bedrest. Your thoughts ventured for a moment,  _ there’s a guy in your bed.  _ Swallowing, you looked back up to him, his eyes meeting yours. The pools of brown held center stage, the rest of his face falling away.

Pulling your gaze away, you wrapped your arms around Connor’s waist slowly, wrapping your hand around Connor’s blazer as you softly pulled his arms through it, pulling it away and out from underneath him. You felt the irregular thump of his heart, but you were unsure if it was from the damage or something else.

Swallowing, you quickly met Connor’s gaze for a fleeting moment. His face held a soft glow in the dim room, causing you to give him another faint smile. Pulling your eyes away, you moved down the white button down. Your soft hands glazed over before landing on the first button around the collar, causing Connor to lift his head slightly. You felt a shudder run down your body as you undid the first button, letting the stiffness of the collar fall away.

You quickly unbuttoned the others, moving down slowly as your fingers lingered whenever possible. When you got to the final button, you undid it slowly, your fingers fumbling the button in your hands. Pulling the shirt apart, Connor’s chest was left bare. You suddenly became aware of your hammering heartbeat in your ears and the blood pressing hard against your face. You’d never felt like this before, what’s different? You met Connor’s gaze again, his face still expressionless, but glowing.

Pulling your gaze away, you moved down to the temporary plastic bandages placed around Connor’s chest. Wrapping your hands around the casing, you swiftly placed your fingers under the adhesive and pulled it away softly. Wrapping around the casing, you pulled the plastic away softly, laying it down on the bed next to him. You turned back to Connor, avoiding his gaze as your fingers skated around the hole in his chest as you peered in.

“Doctor,” Connor’s rough voice broke out, causing your fingers to freeze. For a moment, you swore he was sober. You slowly moved your gaze up towards Connor. “You don’t understand how much I hate you,” Connor spoke softly, words intertwined with emotions that paled Connor’s expressionless face. You scoffed, your brows furrowing softly. 

“When you’re around, my system burns up,” he spoke, his soft voice hardly even there. “My diagnostics confirm that that’s not a positive thing,” Connor reasons, but you watched the flash of an emotion across his face prove his words otherwise, even if he didn’t know that. His slurred words seemed to take a shape. “My eyes are always drawn to you,” he spoke, your breath hitching for a moment. “Do I see you as a threat?” He asked, more to himself than to you. “My thiruim regulator doesn’t work right when you’re around,” Connor states. “All these things I feel,” Connor continued. “ _ I hate you. _ ”

Then, in that exact second, Connor’s arm pushed himself up, causing your hand to fall flat on his bare chest. Your gaze met his, troubled and dark. Then after a moment, his lips were on yours, his eyes fluttering closed, his free hand wrapped around and landed on yours, trapping your small hand against his chest. Your eyes widened in shock, your free hand wrapping around Connor in an attempt to prevent him from falling back and hitting his head. You guided him down, still in shock, your only concern that he’d hurt himself.

When you pulled away, Connor’s lips were parted as unspoken words were left just that - unspoken. His eyes moved from left to right, then down to your lips. The troubled look grew more troubled as he peered into your eyes, his brows furrowing slightly and softly. The few inches between you two grew father as you pulled away, your gaze falling onto Connor’s chest.

Your heart hammered away in your chest, the corners of your vision darkening with the rush of adrenaline. You… liked it?

You exhaled the thoughts, your gaze moving down the hole in Connor’s chest. As you avoided his gaze like a plague, you quickly checked the circuits and wires, your hands moving down only briefly to untangle an exposed wire, causing Connor’s face to contort in a new face of trouble as your lanky fingers glazed around them, fixing them simply. Your free hand grabbed the towel on your bedside, quickly wiping away the blue blood around the exposed hole in his chest. Dropping the towel, you swallowed, pulling your hand out of his chest and moving it towards the plastic casing. You moved it back into place, stepping back after you finished. Your eyes finally met Connor’s for a brief moment before you pulled at the folded blanket at your bedside, pulling it over him. You adjusted his position, allowing his head to fall back on your pillows, his eyes still intently watching your every move. You muttered something about him needing to enter stasis mode, your thoughts elsewhere. You turned to leave, unable to meet his gaze for longer than a moment or two.

“Why don’t you stay with me?” Connor’s voice softly spoke out, sounding as sober as you could get, causing you to stop in your tracks. You shut your eyes, the thoughts in your mind running rapid and free. 

“Explain to me,” Connor spoke out again, shattering the elapsed time that had settled between you two. “Explain to me why I hate you,” Connor finished, his voice falling away. The taste of his whisper forced your head over your shoulder to meet the glint of his gaze. His words rose again, the stronger aroma of the whisper now present. “ _ I hate you. _ ”

“Connor,” your voice picked up, connecting to his words. “You know I can’t,” you voice broke off, your head moving forward, shattering the gaze you two held. You whispered your words again, speaking more to yourself than anyone else. You placed a foot forward, shutting your eyes for a moment before snapping them open as you continued moving forward. Your ears ached as you wrapped your hand around the door, wishing you’d hear him again. Asking you to stay,  _ asking for you. _ But why?

It never came. When you moved your head slightly over your shoulder, Connor’s troubled face was illuminated by the moonlight pouring through the window near him. His gaze focused on the window; no particular object, no particular sight. You swallowed, taking the step outside the door and letting your hand move down to the cold, metal doorknob to pull the door shut. 

_ What just happened? _

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you guys think?


End file.
